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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25918795">save your tears for the wedding, not the funeral, so you can throw them like rice over the happy couple</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownlessliestheking/pseuds/quixxotique'>quixxotique (crownlessliestheking)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AKA Kissanime is dead and this is where my brain went, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Banter, Chaos, Closet (?) Weebery, Contagious Weebery, Crack, Domesticity, Ensemble Cast, M/M, No Game AU, Overly Dramatic Funerals for Websites, Rampant Weebery, is that a fucking jojo reference?, quick fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:29:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,055</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25918795</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownlessliestheking/pseuds/quixxotique</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dearly beloved-," John starts off, after clearing his throat and even adjusting an imaginary bowtie. Imaginary because he'd refused to dress up for what he called a 'complete sham, Dirk, but you know what, I'm going to go along with this only because it'll be funny', which to Dirk seemed like it missed the entire point. If you're going to go along with something like this, you have to go all the way. </p><p>Or, Dirk decides to throw a funeral for an anime streaming website. John goes along with it because he loves him- and he really has to, to deal with this bullshit. Is it too late to get new friends?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Egbert/Dirk Strider, mentioned Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>save your tears for the wedding, not the funeral, so you can throw them like rice over the happy couple</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>As the tags say. Kissanime is dead and this is where my brain went. Also I'm said because Anime Twist servers can't handle the influx of folks so they've cut a lot of the popular shonen...Ya girl can't watch Gintama :(</p><p>On a nice note, I'm finally learning the meaning of short fics, so that's pretty nice.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Dearly beloved-," John starts off, after clearing his throat and even adjusting an imaginary bowtie. Imaginary because he'd refused to dress up for what he called a 'complete sham, Dirk, but you know what, I'm going to go along with this only because it'll be funny', which to Dirk seemed like it missed the entire point. If you're going to go along with something like this, you have to go all the way. </p><p>"I'm not your fucking beloved. Egbert. So get that straight." Granted, inviting some sundry friends and dubious acquaintances could've been more give or take, but they're here now. It's not a fake funeral without some drama, and people who can't stand each other gathering in one place, right? </p><p>"That sort of- language- is hardly appropriate given the current circumstances. It would behoof you to behave better, I think," comes the quietly indignant response from Equius. Dirk can always rely on him to be proper and painfully appropriate, or at least put on a thin veneer of trying to be that, with a few horse jokes sprinkled in. Dirk isn't really sure <em>why</em> Zahhak is here, given that their animated show bonding has been restricted to those featuring ponies, but he's not going to complain about the moral support. </p><p>"Fuck you. And your hooves and their being. I will behave. However the fuck I want to behave. In this shitty house and this shitty tie. Because I am still the best dressed one. Out of all of us. And you will respect that." Caliborn narrows his eyes at Equius, and Dirk's not too worried about a fistfight breaking out. For all that he talks big, Dirk himself could tie the dude in knots if need be. Literally, not metaphorically. He keeps swearing he'll bulk out when he gets older, but he's 26 now, so how <em>much</em> older he has to be is questionable. </p><p>"...Yes. Sir." Equius is sweating bullets now. </p><p>"Here ya go, hon," Rox says, leaning over to offer him a handkerchief. It's kind of a moot point, but Equius takes it anyway, delicately. They’re the only <em>other</em> one who's dressed remotely fancy for this, although fancy in their case means layers and layers of black lace and veils under a single pair of black cat ears, and drawn on running mascara for the whole thing. Now that's real dedication. </p><p>"Christ almighty," Dirk sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. </p><p>"Pff, relax, Dirky, you're not meant to be sad at this thing. It's gonna go off without a hitch!" They say, cheerful. Dirk admires that optimism, he really does, because it’s not something he’ll ever have where their collective friends and family are concerned. They’re all unmitigated disasters, he knows to prepare for the worst. At least this time, he’s pretty sure no one’s going to get accidentally stabbed, a la Dave’s wedding.</p><p>"I think it's going to go off with several hitches, not all of them insignificant," Dirk says, after a moment of thinking about it. "Pretty sure an uneventful gathering ain't in any cards here."</p><p>"Well. What's a Strilonde family event without a lil drama, hmm?"</p><p>"Guys! It's rude to interrupt someone in the middle of their eulogy, you know," John butts in. He's frowning at all of them now, trying to do a whole disapproving schtick, but it's really not working with how hard he's trying not to laugh.</p><p>"Bro, I don't know if you could've made it through the whole eulogy without interrupting yourself," Dirk tells him.</p><p>"What? I totally could have."</p><p>"Hmmmm. You taste like a LIAR-," and whatever the hell else Terezi was going to say is absolutely drowned out by John's loud, revolted noise as she licks the entirety of his cheek. Dirk doesn't even know when it was that she got up on the rudimentary stage they set up; Pyrope is real sneaky that way. But it does prove his point, so he pretends not to see John's pleading glance.</p><p>“My money’s on ‘Rezi,” Rox calls out. “Odds fifty to one on Eggsy-boy winning, any takers?”</p><p>“I would perhaps increase those against him. If I may make that suggestion,” Equius mumbles. He’s dabbing at his forehead with the now-soaked handkerchief. “And if I could request a towel, that would be most- hayppreciated. Ahem. Appreciated.”</p><p>“How about <em>eight</em> thousand to one? Or, eight thousand, eight hundred, and eighty-eight to one?” Vriska chimes in. She wasn’t invited, Dirk knows that. And yet, here she is. Does this count as a party crasher, or is it just who Vriska is as a person? The jury’s out, and he’ll have to leave this one to Pyrope to decide.</p><p>“Hell no,” Dirk shakes his head, because he can’t have that obvious reference go unknown. “It’s gotta be over nine thousand to one. That’s just the way it is.”</p><p>“How’s sixty-four thousand to one? Eight squared times one thousand?” Rox suggests.</p><p>“You know, I’m not actually that bad in a fight,” John points out, mild. “I could take Terezi. I could punt Terezi up into the sky, Team Rocket style, and she’d never be seen again.”</p><p>Both Terezi and Vriska cackle at that. John deflates; no one’s buying that one, not even a little. He’s sitting at his little stand trying to sell it and there’s absolutely no takers to be found.</p><p>“You could, but at what cost?” Dirk asks, because that’s his boyfriend, and he has to stand up for him sometimes. He’s contractually obligated to.</p><p>“At the cost of getting his ass whooped by me,” Vriska says. She sounds so confident, too, but that’s because it’s true. “And my girlfriends.”</p><p>“One of your girlfriends will be orbiting space, though,” Rox points out. “Just saying, babes, it’s gotta be more of a whole, revenge cycle deal, el em ay oh.”</p><p>“And I’m the best at revenge cycles,” she says, vicious. Terezi smiles with all of her teeth, disconcertingly wide, and whacks John’s leg with her cane when he tries to stop her from licking him again. He curses, loud.</p><p>“That’s my girl. The courts will find you guilty as charged, Egbert, so you’d better have your will ready. They go for the <em>death</em> penalty.” Dirk isn’t sure that a budding lawyer ought to be so pleased about the death penalty in general, but as far as yeeting a significant other into space goes, Vriska and Meenah’s response would be a <em>lot</em> worse. Lethal injection is probably a lot more humane than what they’d come up with.</p><p>“And then when you’ve been fried up crispy, we’ll go after everyone you love and hold dear,” Vriska adds with a smirk.</p><p>“Good luck getting Rose, then,” John grumbles, hopping on one foot and holding his leg. Yikes, that’ll probably bruise. “And- aren’t you not supposed to be whacking people with that thing?”</p><p>Dirk decides it’s about time to help his idiot boyfriend out and goes up to the stage, so at least John can lean on him and not risk toppling over. He gets a murmured thanks for his trouble, and an equally quiet sorry when one hop sends John’s foot right on top of his own, and nearly gets the both of them falling over. Christ, this is what happens when you try to help someone out at a fake funeral.</p><p>“I have no idea what you’re talking about, blueberry boy,” Terezi says, shamelessly unapologetic. Granted, she doesn’t really have many other settings, but still.</p><p>“Goddammit,” John mutters. Dirk just pats his back, gentle. “We need new fucking friends.”</p><p>“Technically, I made new fucking friends,” Dirk answers, equally quiet. He glances pointedly at Zahhak and Caliborn through his shades, and John, bless his soul, follows his line of sight and then ducks his head to hide a grimace. “I’m starting to think that might have been a mistake. They know where we live now, and I’m regretting that decision. What if he just fucking, shows up in the middle of the night demanding a chess game and I stab him? Can I just say ‘he was asking for it’ and get away with that?”</p><p>“…I’ll help bury the body, and we’ll make sure to do it real deep in the woods or something,” John says, solemnly. “No one is going to miss him.”</p><p>“His sister is going to miss him.”</p><p>“I guess we really can’t hurt Callie like that, can we,” Dirk sighs. “RoLal will be absolutely furious with us.”</p><p>“You fucking assholes. I can hear you. And I want you to know. The world will mourn my passing. And you will fucking regret stabbing me. When all I wanted. Was a game. That you would enjoy anyway. Fucker.” Caliborn hisses out every word like it’s dripping acid, and Dirk really has to admire the guy’s ability to sound venomously furious about every little thing. “And if my bitch of a sister. Did mourn me. She’s the only one I wouldn’t want to.”</p><p>“Don’t talk about Callie like that,” Rox warns from the other side of Equius, their voice dead serious. “I don’t even know <em>why</em> she likes ya, but she’s real sweet and won’t give up on you, and while that’s dumb! I made no such promises and Dirky has like a billion weapons, so-,”</p><p>“Rox, you cannot duel him in my backyard,” Dirk breaks in, before they actually make the attempt. “And none of those weapons are guns, just for the record.”</p><p>“I have a warhammer,” John suggests, helpful to absolutely no one. “I bet you could lift it and squash him like a grape.”</p><p>“You will be the one squashed. Like a grape. Egbert.”</p><p>Yeah, this is what happens when Dirk makes new friends, isn’t it. He’s just that good at attracting assholes.</p><p>“No one’s squashing anyone like any kind of fruit,” Dirk announces to the gathering at large, and at the very least, the mutinous swearing is under people’s breath, which is all he could ask for. “We don’t have a coffin that’ll fit a real person, or any memorial wear with folks’ faces on them. Come back in seven business days and then we can see about that.”</p><p>On an aside to John, he murmurs, “You know what? I don’t think I should be making friends for us. If I’d invited Karkat’s pseudo-dad, he’d have had both knives and guns on hand for this and it’d be a funeral already. Thanks for having the foresight to dodge that bullet.”</p><p>“I like your optimism that he’d show up,” John answers, equally quiet. “This is in no way his scene.”</p><p>“He likes me.”</p><p>“Okay, well, I’m going to be in charge of making the new friends. We’re delegating. You can keep your weird, murder and/or horse-fetishist friends, and I will make good, wholesome ones who bring us pies and are on the PTA but not the kind who demand to speak to the manager for no good reason. How’s that?”</p><p>“Acceptable, I think. You look the part of wholesome way more than I do. But don’t get with anyone too normal,” Dirk recommends. “We still want people to come over so we can mourn the increasing strictness of privacy laws and monetization of content online. Just wait until the streaming wars really kick off, we can make a whole event of it.”</p><p>“If Dave doesn’t beat us to it,” John says. “You know how your brother is.”</p><p>“When he’s being annoying, he’s your best friend.”</p><p>“What? No. We decided that he was your brother when he was annoying, I’m pretty sure, I remember that.”</p><p>“He’s always annoying.”</p><p>“Good thing you love his dumb ass too much to disown him, right?”</p><p>“….Technically, he’s Karkat’s husband when he’s annoying. And marriage is forever, according to Vantas.”</p><p>"Dude, what the fuck is this?" comes a voice from the gate to the backyard, too loud to be anything but deliberately theatric.</p><p>“God. Speak of the fucking devil,” John says, more admiring than he really should be. “How long do you think he was there waiting for us to talk about him so he could make that kind of entrance?”</p><p>“Too long, probably,” Dirk admits. Dave’s always been a dramatic bitch, and showing up to this at precisely the right moment, dressed in a seifuku is- well. Very Dave. He’d have expected to see a patterned suit worthy of JoJo, but you take what you can get, really. And this was short notice.</p><p>Dirk wonders whether or not he should've seen this coming. No sham funeral is complete with someone trying to crash it, either, although Dave's generally good at crashing parties in general. It's a skill. The pose might be a bit overdone, but given the theme of the afternoon, Dirk is willing to allow it.</p><p>"Where's Karkat?" he decides to ask, instead. "I thought you'd have brought your waifu with you, given how fucking hooked he got on shoujo once he discovered it."</p><p>"God, don't even remind me, dude. But he doesn't like funerals much, even dumbass ones like these, and he said- and here I'm quoting, 'WHEN THOSE TWO SHITSTAINED DICKSACKS DECIDE TO GET THEIR SHIT TOGETHER FOR A REAL EVENT ONLY THEN WILL I SHOW THE FUCK UP'. So," Dave breaks off, clears his throat from the shockingly good imitation of his husband, and shrugs. "There we go."</p><p>"Davey, it really did just sound like he possessed you or something," Rox snickers. "All that stuff 'bout married couples turning into one entity? True!"</p><p>"Fu-sion- ha," Dirk says, deadpan, stealing a glance at John. John flushes pink, and shakes his head vehemently.</p><p>"No! You have to do the- there's the whole dance, too," he says, pointing an accusatory finger at Dirk. And- oh, huh. That’s interesting. Something to note for the future, though admittedly it’s hard to think about a real proposal when you’ve already somehow got a house in the suburbs with a backyard suitable for fake funeral dramatic gatherings. Which is the most important quality in a backyard, followed shortly by how easy it would be to hide a body in there, and then again by how easy it is to booby trap. "Don't propose to me without the Dragon Ball Z fusion dance, or I'm going to tell you no, and then what. And it has to be in public."</p><p>"This ain't public enough for you?" Dirk asks, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>"Not even close," John tells him, with that grin that really only just means <em>trouble</em>, when it comes right down to it. "You're going to do it at a crowded beach. And I'm just going to stand there."</p><p>"Well, the homoerotic tension between Goku and Vegeta had to be resolved somehow," Dirk shrugs a bit, but the concept of that- no. He doesn't have any sense of shame at all, but when he does propose, it sure as hell ain't gonna be like that. That's for the sham proposal. They can have their cake and eat it, too. "Bird of paradise-style mating dances is one way to do it, but not one that suits the mood right now, I'll give you that."</p><p>"This is a very sad and tragic event, after all," John agrees.</p><p>"I hate all of you," Caliborn declares, to the gathering at large. If he's saying that, Dirk's pretty sure they're doing something right. It's a good metric. "Stop being. So fucking lewd. All the time. This is a funeral. Get your shit together."</p><p>"Y'all fuckin' weebs," Dave sighs, shaking his head. "You know that shit is going to be back online in like three days with a different two letters after the dot on the website name, right? Like. That's a thing that's happening, Kissanime is a fucking cockroach and even if the OG dudes say they're not doing shit to revive it you know the rest of the weebs are gonna either flock to other options or make their own kissuanime dot uwu for it. Yeah, I just said 'uwu' out loud, sue me, your bullshit must be catching and with so many of you assholes in one room it's no wonder, yo, I never stood a fuckin' chance against it."</p><p>"You're still wearing a suit and a Pop Team Epic tie, and it clashes with your entire outfit," Dirk points out, because he feels obligated to fill the silence.</p><p>"Well, I'm infected already, might as well join in. My eulogy's gonna blow yours outta the water, bro, prepare for the slamdown of the goddamn century." Dave folds himself into the shitty plastic chair in the backyard, and gestures for them to continue. "I can't believe you thought you were gonna throw a fake-ass funeral without me, bro. Me, the undisputed king of ironic, shitty grand gesture celebrations. But whatever, I'm here now, my irony sense was tingling from way the fuck off, so let's make this shit <em>hapen.</em>"</p><p>Dirk can’t argue with that. While there’s no one like Dave to really derail an event, there’s also no one like Dave to really get one back on track.</p><p>“You should’ve shaved your legs,” Rox says, leaning in to inspect the legs in question. They pet along Dave’s stockinged shin. Dirk steps closer to inspect this, figuring John can stand on his own for now.</p><p>“Yeah, dude, there’s nothing to ruin a look like leg hair crushed up against sheer stockings. Take it from me,” he adds.</p><p>“Oh, so you’re approaching me only to talk shit about my legs? Fuck the patriarchy, and also razors,” Dave tells them both, his leg still sticking out uncomfortably far. Dirk pats his ankle, before shoving it off the chair.</p><p>“Get your filthy feet off this furniture, dude. I’m not cleaning this before it goes into the garage again. We got a good fucking deal on this shit.”</p><p>“Should’ve bought some for me,” Dave says, unrepentant, and his leg goes right back onto Dirk’s lap when Dirk finally sits. He figures that’s as good as he’s going to get.</p><p>“You’re married, buy your own fucking furniture,” Dirk tells him. “Now shut up and let John do his speech, he worked hard on it.”</p><p>This is patently false, Dirk is sure, but John’s charismatic and Dirk knows his own speech is fucking killer, so it doesn’t matter anyway.</p><p>"Dearly beloved," John starts again, with a deep sigh this time.</p><p>"I'm not your fucking beloved. Egbert."</p>
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